


Joyous

by magifrog



Category: We Happy Few (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Drug Use, Canon-Typical Violence, Listen. This is almost exclusively ocs and speculation, Multi, No promises I'll finish this especially when the game comes out for real
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 11:01:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13611972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magifrog/pseuds/magifrog
Summary: Arthur Hastings has chosen the wrong house to squat in. Now, he's swept up in a poorly thought-out plan to sneak a drug resistant Downer into the Village.





	1. Chapter 1

Arthur wondered if he could pinpoint the exact moment it had all gone wrong. No, it hadn’t been the office party, had it? It had started long before he’d seen that picture of him and Percy. He supposed it didn’t much matter now, anyways.

He crouched in the shadow of a dilapidated old brownstone, waiting for the hooligans with their bright torches to pass him by.

Arthur had always been stubborn by nature, if nothing else, but he was close to his breaking point. At first, he had still entertained the idea that if he could just return home, if he could only crawl into his safe, soft bed, he could wake up and go back to work and everything would be forgiven. Silly as it seemed now, that had been his drive to keep moving forward. It had been over a week, and here he was in the ruins that were Lud’s Holm, and it was starting to sink in that his life would never be the same.

Worse, he was starting to remember more and more. When he had initially gone off his Joy, of course the little things had begun to come back, like Percival and his botanical knowledge or the color of his mother’s eyes. But now there were bitter memories, like the fights his parents had gotten into, him sitting in the stairwell, quiet as a mouse, listening in. And a dark shadow seemed to loom over him, a nameless, black cloud concealing something bigger in the back of his mind. Although Arthur had overwhelming curiosity about what exactly had happened to his lost family, he was terrified of what would happen when the last dregs of Joy completely flushed from his system for good, and he would be left alone with whatever was beyond that curtain of fog.

The sentry passed him by, and Arthur set off in search of somewhere to rest his head, exhausted by his earlier foray into the outskirts of town. 

Eventually, he chanced upon a dirty mattress on the second floor of a blasted-out building that looked as though it would be satisfactory shelter. Arthur hoped it was hard enough to get to that the scavengers below wouldn’t try anything while he was asleep- he’d had the experience of waking up to empty pockets before, and it hadn’t been pleasant.

“Sweet dreams,” he whispered half-heartedly to himself, and let the world fade away if only for a moment.

When he awoke, it was to a sharpened stick at his throat.

“Get enough sleep, didja?”

“Please, man- don't kill me, you can have whatever you’d like-”

The man’s eyes narrowed, but he lowered the weapon.

“I haven't made up my mind yet, mate. I want to know why the hell you’ve decided to set up shop in my house.”

“Oh,  _ shit _ .” It had seemed like a convenient hidey-hole, and in retrospect Arthur had definitely ignored the mess of personal belongings strewn across the rotting floor. “I didn't realize anyone actually lived here, honest.”

“You're fresh out of th’ village, huh,” the man said, eyeing Arthur’s appearance. “Fuckin’ downers.”

“You’re one too,” Arthur protested, realizing a bit late that he might regret arguing with anyone brandishing a pointed weapon.

“Actually, I didn't get any choice in the matter. I’m drug resistant, lucky me.” The man slumped into a broken armchair that sat in the corner, crossing one leg over the other. “Enough about that. Give me one reason I should just let you go on your merry way.”

“Wait, you said drug resis-? Er.” Arthur backpedaled, pressing the tips of his fingers together. “Well, I mean- we’re both just men, yeah? In the scheme of things, it doesn't do any good to just kill each other.”

“Mate, look around you. You think anyone here cares about 'the scheme of things?’ We’re all just trying to survive. I kill you, less chance you’ll have to fuck things up down the line.”

“Why haven't you, then?” Arthur looked the man in the eyes, and they were warm and brown and not at all cruel. He had looked into the eyes of murderers, and desperate robbers, and poor souls on the brink of Joy overdose. These weren't the same: they were sharp and focused, but not devoid of compassion. Or, at least he hoped as much.

The man opened his mouth, then closed it. He slouched even more, sliding into a familiar divet in the worn velvet seat.

“Just go. And if I see you 'round here again, well- you know.”

“Right.” Arthur stood a bit shakily, unsure how he had managed his way out of the situation alive. He clambered down the side of the building, only letting his breath out once he was a safe distance away.


	2. Chapter 2

Morning came, and afternoon after that, and then nighttime. Days passed, but Arthur hadn't made much more progress getting home. His life was cyclical now, spent foraging in the daylight hours, hiding in the dark ones, with the occasional trip across the bridge. He had returned to his hideout in the maintenance tunnels, and more or less kept busy with his projects. Part of him still yearned for the trappings of regular society, so he had taken to sewing the tears in his now-battered suit, washing it in the sinks when it grew too rancid.

The work was something to do, but it was mind-numbingly boring without something to watch or listen to. Although, since he had gone Joy-less, he had to admit he didn't get the appeal of Uncle Jack’s programs at all. The man had charisma, but that was the only good thing to be said about the show. Really, there were more and more things he was realizing he didn't enjoy anymore. He had been an avid birdwatcher, before, but now he was finding it hard to care about beyond attempting to catch them in hopes of untainted meat. Even his great appreciation for the beautiful, luminous night-blooming lilies growing in the square had dimmed. Nothing much really mattered anymore, and to be truthful his end goal of going home, or to the mainland, or  _ something _ , that was just an excuse not to go off and jump into the ocean.

There was a Joy pill in his drawer. It was so tempting, to take it now and make it all go away, but he had wanted to save it in case he made it to Wellington proper. It hardly mattered now, though, did it? He might not ever cross that bridge. If he didn't take it now, cheer himself up, he mightn’t do anything ever again, right?

He hesitated, then picked the little pink pill up, feeling the smooth plastic-like exterior roll between his finger and thumb. Then he shoved it deep in his jacket pocket, forcing himself to scale the ladder back up into the sunlight.

It was unusually sunny, so Arthur tied his suit jacket around his waist and rolled his sleeves up. He figured that there was no moving on without a power cell, and that he had better make progress soon, or his psyche would be all the worse for it.

By now he had gotten good at sneaking around, and it was easy to find openings to break into in this portion of the city, which had seen the worst of the bombings. Although he considered himself a generally good person under normal circumstances, Arthur did actually enjoy this part of his livelihood- there was a certain thrill, after all, in being unseen even as the owners of the house stomped about downstairs.

He rummaged through a chest of drawers, trying not to feel strange about digging through a complete stranger’s assorted oddities, when he came across a familiar looking pill bottle. It was opaque, but something shook around like a bunch of pills, so he unscrewed the top with no small amount of anticipation. Inside, full to the brim, was Joy, in almost every flavor the market offered. It was like coming across a stash of gold, or holding a fistful of bank notes, and just having the bottle in his hand made Arthur strangely exhilarated.

Footsteps grew louder and the stairs creaked, so Arthur pocketed the bottle and darted into the crevice he had entered through, staying motionless up against the outer brick wall until he was certain the resident wouldn't be alerted by any noises he made climbing back down. 

He stopped to rest underneath the shade of a large oak tree, its branches dead and twisted, reaching futilely towards the sky. He opened the bottle again, drinking in the sight of the many multicolored pills. And now that he had plenty, surely there was no harm in taking one now, right? He would have plenty for the trip across the bridge and afterward, and he needed it, just one. Just to forget everything for a little while. He would just take a little mental vacation, and stroll through the gardens, and everything would be fine, and then he could get to work finding a power cell.

He shook one out into his hand. Strawberry. He had always been partial to strawberry. He let it melt on his tongue, immediately beginning to feel better.

“That is entirely too good,” he said to himself, chuckling for really no reason. He looked up, and the oak was sprouting leaves, beautiful green things that unfurled themselves and spread until they were dense enough to block out the sky. And the sky- it had gone from a sickly pale robin’s-egg color to the most brilliant blue, and Arthur was moved enough to want to weep out of joy. 

He strolled into town, and everything was different. The flowers glowed with radiant colors, and the brick buildings seemed much less dreary. Yes, they just had a bit of character, didn't they? Two women walked past Arthur, and he couldn't resist the urge to give them a smile and a nod.

“Wonderful afternoon, isn't it?”

They only stared at him, probably because they were just too shy to be talking to anyone in public. Particularly a man as handsome and smart as Arthur, with such a winning personality. 

Eventually, though, he could feel the dragging feeling of the Joy wearing off, like he was suddenly slower than molasses, wading through the heavy air. Well- he had more than enough pills for now, and really, it was probably better to wean himself off of it rather than quit cold turkey, right? The rational part of Arthur’s brain whispered,  _ You’ve only had one. It isn’t going to hurt as much now as it will if you quit later. _ But Arthur needed this, and he could put off the withdrawal just for a little bit, and anyways it was only one more pill and he had been taking them for years, so what was the harm?

He popped another pill, and the world returned to its usual colorful glow.


	3. Chapter 3

When he came to, he was in his bed in the bunker, and he felt absolutely awful. His head ached and he discovered he was fighting the urge to vomit.

“Welcome back to the real world, Sleeping Beauty.”

“Wh-” Arthur turned on his side, and the man from the house he had attempted to sleep in was sitting across from him. For the first time, he was able to properly catalogue his features- creased brown skin, a surprisingly neatly-kept beard, and those dark, wide-set eyes that Arthur found pleasant to look at. “You again.”

“Yeah. Probably a terrible decision on my part, but at least this place is safer than a flat missing two walls, right?”

“How did you know to come here?”

“What, here?  I mean, you told me to go to the Underground, and after a bit of deciphering your gibberish, it was fairly easy to find.” The man rested his head in one hand. “The way I found you in the first place was dancing about the square, startling just about everyone in town. You're lucky I was taking a trip to th’ old Eel, or someone with less scruples might have come along.”

“Thank you.” Arthur grimaced, embarrassed. “I don't suppose you have my Joy-”

“Oh, no, no. I’m holding on to these from now on.”

“That’s not why I asked! I’m trying to get to St. George’s, so I’m going to need those later on.”

“Well, I’m keeping them, for your sake. We can't have you prancing around like a lunatic, asking to get yourself killed.”

“Why do you care?” The man paused, a flicker of sadness crossing his face. Then he shook his head, rising from his chair.

“Take me with you to St. George’s Holm. I have a power cell, you just need to get me past the detectors and all that.”

“Alright. I’ll try to think of something as soon as my brain quits feeling as if it’s bent on escaping my skull.”

“Good man.” The stranger patted his arm. “In the meantime, I’ll be enjoying having running water. You know, this really is a gem of a place you’ve got.”

“Wait, I wanted to ask a few things.”

“One question.”

“Three?”

“Two.” The man crossed his arms.

“If I’m going to be working with you, I’d like to know your name.”

“Hmm.” He paused for thought, making a face. “Call me Nobody. I was nobody before this mess, and I’ll be nobody after.”

“That won't get confusing at all,” Arthur  frowned. “Can't you tell me your real name?”

“Can't remember it. Least not without dragging up a whole bunch of other stuff. If you hate it, just make up a new name, I don’t care.”

“Well, how come you’re not… like the other people out there? You’re not…”

“What, I haven't gone insane yet?” Nobody smiled, as if it were funny. “Mate, you haven't talked to enough people. Plenty of weirdos out there, yes, but I’d say they only account for maybe half. What it probably is is that no-one wants to talk to a Downer. You had a choice to live in the cushy, beautiful village, and you wasted it. Me and my lot are either allergic or resistant to the pills, see, so we haven't got any choices.”

“Do you think that? About me?”

“I think you’re sort of an idiot. But I like you. Anyways, that’s an extra question. Two, I think, actually. You go ahead and rest, I’m dying to wash up.”

“Alright.” Arthur drew the blankets around him, sinking back into his pillow. “Thank you again, Nobody.”

“My pleasure,” he said, and disappeared into the doorway.

Arthur, awake again after the last dregs of Joy had left his system, sat on the floor, pondering the problem in front of him. It was arguably more hassle than it was worth to get Nobody across the bridge, but Arthur had barely spoken to anyone in upwards of a week. He wasn't prepared to throw away whatever friendship he had in favor of taking an easier way out.

So it came down to one of two options: finding a way to circumvent the bridge altogether, or finding a way to trick the Joy sensor. There was the third option of getting ahold of one of the bobbies’ keycards, but Arthur didn't feel quite up to the task, having been beaten to an inch of his life when he had attempted it before.

“Here’s a thought.”

“Yeah?” Nobody, who was sitting across from him, leaned forward expectantly.

“Well, you’re resistant to Joy, right? But that doesn't mean you can't take it.”

“I still have to deal with the horrid side effects. I mean, if you’d like to pull my arse down the street while I’m having a bad trip, that’s your prerogative, but…”

“Listen, there are ways to get yourself sober. I could put something together, if we can find the chemicals and some of those beakers-”

“Alright, Arthur. What did you do before you were a Downer?”

“What?”

“What was your occupation?”

“Er- I was a redactor, I was responsible for reading old newspapers and the like, deciding which ones should be destroyed and which ones kept.”

“So you’re not a chemist or a scientist of any sort, then.”

“No, but-”

“Arthur. I have given you a lot of my trust, and I do trust you, but I need to know whatever concoction we come up with won't kill me. I think we’d better outsource this one.”

“That's reasonable,” said Arthur a little disappointedly. He was used to relying on himself, and truthfully took a lot of pride in using his new skill set, but he supposed it wouldn't do to kill his only friend in the world.

“You’ll like her, anyways. Her name’s Mariana, and she’s brilliant.”


	4. Chapter 4

The better part of the day was spent making the trek back to Lud’s Holm, mainly because Arthur felt a bit stiff from his joyful activities, and Nobody took advantage of the slow pace to collect the little blue currant berries that grew along the roadside.

“So, you said you were nobody before the war and everything, right? Does that mean you remember… everything?”

“Well, no.” He collected the berries in a worn handkerchief that had probably at one point been white. “I'm sure you can figure something awful happened. Whatever that was, it’s all just blurry to me. They say the brain can forget when it needs to, and I need to. There's no point in sitting on my doorstep all day lamenting the past.”

“So what  _ do _ you remember? What did you do for work?”

“Nothing important, that’s for sure. I spent a while as a busboy, then a store clerk. It doesn't matter too much to me. I like my life now.”

“You like it?”

“Yeah, I mean, besides the food. Call it a sunny disposition, but I enjoy the little things. These berries, for example. When you’ve spent the week eating rotten potato soup, they taste five times as good.” Nobody popped one into his mouth, smiling as he chewed.

“That sort of makes sense, I guess.”

“It’s better than cursing my luck all the time. Maybe I can't take Joy, that doesn't mean I don't have any.”

They reached an old mansion that creaked and shook as the wind battered it, looking ready to fall apart at any moment.

Nobody went up to the front door, pausing before loudly knocking three times fast, then two slow.

“Coming!” came a voice from inside, and a moment later there was a noise like the turning of many locks. The door opened a smidge, and a mousy little woman peeked out from behind it. “Well! If it isn’t Mr. Peters! Lucy, come over and say hello, won't you?”

“Nobody Peters, eh?” Arthur smirked, and Nobody shot him a glare before turning back to the woman who was presumably Mariana.

“Can I get you boys anything? I’m afraid we don't have much, but-”

“Oh, no need. Actually, we’re here on business…”

The two continued their conversation, and Arthur stood awkwardly in the doorway for a moment. The house was cluttered beyond imagination, boxes of papers lining the hallway and knick knacks of all sorts piled up in little mounds at certain intervals. Arthur closed the door behind him, noticing there were at least ten locks on the battered door. He turned a few of them to their locked position, ignoring the ones placed nearer to the floor.

“Arthur, dear!” called the woman's voice, and he navigated around the piled belongings in the entryway to the kitchen.

Nobody and another person, a brittle, bony woman were seated at the kitchen table. A radio blared one of Uncle Jack’s programs, and her gaze was fixed intently on it, unwavering even as Arthur found a place at the table.

“Really, Mari, you don't have to worry about feeding us.”

“Oh, nonsense. Me n’ Lucy don’t hardly eat much anymore at our age. Besides, it’ll take me a bit and a half to make the Joy antidote, so you may as well stay a while.”

“Thank you, madam.” Arthur smiled as Mariana placed a plate and teacup in front of him.

“Oh, what a gentleman. You ought to keep this one around.”

Nobody nodded embarrassedly, passing a plate to the woman Arthur gathered was Lucy. Her stare remained unbroken, but she reacted to the food, skeletal fingers wrapping around the two slices of bread placed in front of her.

Arthur took a bite of his own sandwich, finding it more delicious than anything he’d eaten in a week. Although the bread was stale and a bit moldy, the fillings, sliced mushrooms and some sort of salty meat, tasted divine in comparison to his usual breakfast of rotten fruit and neximide. 

“Now is this- is this tea?”

“She makes it from rose hips. It’s amazing, although there’s no sugar or milk.”

“I always took mine black, anyway.” Arthur looked up, noticing Mariana had left the kitchen. “So how do you two know each other?”

“She was a chef at my old work. We got kicked out of the village together, and we’ve been on good terms since. She’s amazing at coming up with ways to combat the rot.”

“But she's not a chemist or anything?”

“Well, her wife was.” Nobody motioned at Lucy, who was seemingly completely unaware of their presence. “Before she went all… senile.”

“Her… wife.”

“Yes.” Nobody gave Arthur a pointed look.

“No, that’s- I just wasn't aware that you could-”

“Most people don't give a shit what you do out here, mate. Not as long as you keep out of everyone's business.”

“I only meant… nevermind.”

Arthur chewed his sandwich in silence, contemplative. He was finishing the last of his tea when Mariana popped back into the room, beaming.

“Alright, I’ve cleared out a proper space for you two.” She bounded over to Lucy, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Come on, dearest, it’s time for bed.”

She turned the radio off, and Lucy stood slowly, gazing into space. Mariana grabbed a shawl that had been hanging off one of the kitchen chairs, wrapping it around her lovingly and guiding her out through the messy hallway.

Arthur stacked his dishes and placed them in the sink, then followed Nobody out into the next room.

“Oh. That’s what she meant by clearing a space.”

The space consisted of two mattresses side by side, surrounded by all manner of clutter. Arthur spied a few bicycles and a stack of wicker baskets in the rubble, but Nobody seemed unperturbed by the mess.

“Well, we all have our vices. She probably feels a lot safer this way, with all this stuff.” Nobody tiptoed over to the beds, flopping down on a mattress. Dust rose into the air, sending Arthur coughing for a moment.

“So, er, what’s your vice, then?”

“Oh, I don't know. Taking pity on Downers who haven’t got a lick of survival knowledge, probably.”

“So this is a regular thing for you, then.”

“I wouldn't say that. Mostly I’m teasing you. There was an incident a while ago where me and another fellow were trying to build a boat, but it didn't go so well.”

“Yeah, I’d expect not. It’s a steep drop.”

“Well, we weren't morons. We had a pulley system and everything. Problem is, you need a person on the top of the cliff to act as the counterweight and lower the boat down safely.”

“So did you do that, and he left without you?”

“No, no. He got some girl to do it for him, 'cause I wanted to stay a bit longer here to work out the flaw in the plan. Well, she figured she’d be fine if she tried to leap into the boat afterward, and they both ended up plummeting down.” Nobody made a falling motion with one hand, punctuating the sentence by slamming it into his other palm. “Bam. They hit the water and could have been alright, but the current was too much for them to get the boat upright, and anyways I don’t think either of them were strong swimmers. Imagine me, when I heard about it the  next morning. Fuckin’ idiots.”

“Wow,” murmured Arthur, who had made himself comfortable on the old mattress. “Do you have any other stories like that?”

“Tell you what. You tell me one of yours, I’ll see what I can remember.”

“I don't know. I don’t have much to say, I’ve been hand-to-mouth the past few… weeks?” Come to think of it, how long had it been, exactly?

“Well, how did they figure out you were a Downer?”

“I was- I had been sort of off and on for awhile, but they didn’t notice at first, 'cause I had been taking my Joy right before I got into work.” Arthur related the story, how he had seen the newspaper article, the disturbing signs in Pru’s office, the piñata. As he got to the bit where his coworkers had eaten a rat, Nobody grimaced.

“Alright, I’ve eaten rat too, but not raw like that.”

“Imagine how I felt! I had never knowingly eaten anything that nasty. If I  _ had _ been on my Joy, I would have just thought it was candy, and…” Arthur shuddered. “Actually, I’m wondering now if every piece of candy I’ve had was secretly rat. That’s why I hated Joy- I never knew what was really going on, ever. And I stopped remembering the important things, too. A few more years of it and I would have ended up like Lucy, you know, just staring at the telly or something.”

“I guess that seems reasonable.” Nobody grabbed an old throw pillow from the surrounding clutter, folding it under his head. “I’ve thought about it a lot, but I don't know what I would do if I woke up one day and could take Joy like everyone else. I mean, St. George’s is safer and all that, but thinking about it like you do…”

“I don't know that it’s safer, necessarily. Just better at pretending it is.”

“Well, isn't Apple Holm even better? Fresh food and all that?”

“I- I think so. I’m not sure if I can definitively say. I was all Joyed up for most of it.” Arthur frowned, laying back and resting his hands on his stomach. “In any case, I need to get back there. I feel like even if I can't go back to the way it was, I’ll find some type of answers there.”

“Answers about what?”

“My mother. My brother, Percival. My friends. Anyone.”

“I won't stop you, but… there's a lot that's best left unremembered. Trust me.”

“I appreciate the concern, I guess.” Arthur sighed, turning on his side to face the tower of decorative baskets. There was no response from Nobody, so he squeezed his eyes shut and waited for sleep to take him


	5. Chapter 5

When he awakened, Arthur felt genuinely refreshed. The sun shone golden through a small gap what was visible of the boarded-up windows, and a blanket had been draped over him sometime during his rest.

He stood and stretched, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders, following the sound of clanking dishes.

“Jesus, Arthur, it’s past noon. Still recovering?”

“I missed breakfast?” Nobody had his sleeves rolled up, scrubbing dishes in a basin of water. Lucy sat in her chair facing the radio, a crust of bread on the table in front of her.

“Well, I’m sure we can find you something. I still have those berries from yesterday, although they're a bit mashed now.”

“That’s okay. Will you put on some tea for me?”

Nobody nodded, and grabbed a kettle from the kitchen counter, carrying it into the next room. Arthur sat down, yawning, and turned his attention to Lucy.

“Good morning. Uncle Jack saying anything interesting today?” Lucy blinked, and Arthur wondered if it was in reply or just impulse.

“It’ll be a minute.” Nobody returned to the kitchen, pouring more water into the basin and scouring a pan. “So I think we can leave tomorrow. Mariana’s almost done making something that won’t kill me, and it might be nice to spend one last night here before I go off to a whole 'nother island.”

“I'd like that. This is the closest I've felt to normal in ages, I feel… almost like I’m at Mum’s house, actually.”

“What was she like? If that’s not a tender subject.”

“She was nice.” Arthur rubbed his neck. “I can't exactly remember a lot more than that, it’s just this feeling I get. Like, when’s the last time someone cooked for me? That type of thing.”

“Yeah, I guess Mari’s a maternal sort of person. It’s too bad she never had kids-” And then Nobody set down the pan he had been cleaning, a strange look crossing his face.

“Are you alright?” Arthur got up, touching his shoulder. “Nobody?”

“I… I’m fine. Or I will be.” Nobody fumbled for a chair, sitting down shakily. “Just a flash of something there.”

Unsure what to do, Arthur decided to wrap his blanket around Nobody’s torso, patting his shoulder.

“I don't need any pity, Arthur,” Nobody said, but sighed and seemed to relax a little.

“We’re friends, I think. We are friends, right? So I just want to help.”

“We can be friends, yeah. You kind of need more of them, anyways.” For the first time Arthur saw something sort of like a genuine smile appear on Nobody’s face, although it was quickly replaced by a pained look. “Listen, can you distract me somehow? Or turn that radio down, or something? I have to try and block this out, or else I’m going to be in real trouble.”

“Um, yes, of course.” Arthur leaned over and turned the radio to a more bearable volume, bending down to Nobody’s level. “I could tell you a happy story, maybe. Er… well, there was this woman at my work, Prudence, and she was fantastic at her job. She always managed to brighten up whatever room she was in. Anyways, she had planned this huge surprise party for me one year- she was partly in charge of all the birthdays, you see-” Arthur looked up, afraid he was boring Nobody.

“Go on.”

“So, she has this huge cake, and everyone’s yelled surprise, the party is well underway. My boss, Ms. Byng, is late showing up. And at the time there was this man that worked there named John or James or something, the office idiot, and he gets it in his head he’s going to dance on the table.” Arthur stifled a giggle. “So he leaps onto it, except it’s wobbly, and one of the legs is propped up by a phone book, and the cake is at the other end, so when the table broke…”

“The cake dropped right on him?”

“Not even! It flew up into the ceiling fan and flung everywhere, it was a complete disaster. But that’s not the best part.”

“No?”

“Right then, Ms. Byng walks in, looking all prim and proper, probably back from a big meeting, and a big gob of cake nails her right in the face, completely ruins her mask and her suit and everything.”

“Oh, no.”

“For a minute, everyone is just quiet. You could hear a pin drop. But then she just  starts  _ laughing.  _ And me and Pru, we look at her, look at our coworkers all covered with cake, and we start laughing too. Pretty soon the whole room is laughing and throwing cake, and everyone’s piling on John, and roughhousing each other. The cleaning crew never did get those stains all the way out of the wallpaper.” Arthur smiled, even though he felt a bit melancholic remembering it all. “That was the best birthday party I’ve ever had.”

“It sounds perfect. I wish I could've seen it.”

“Yeah. Too bad they all turned out to hate me in the end. Even Deirdre.”

“What about Pru?”

“She went missing a while before my co-workers found out I was off my Joy. I still don't know what happened to her. If she's alive.”

“That’s rough. I know how you feel.” Nobody took Arthur’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

“Whoever’s left a kettle out here, it’s boiling over,” came a voice from the other room.

“Sorry, Mari! That’s my fault.” Nobody dropped Arthur’s hand and went to collect it, leaving Arthur with Lucy again. It wasn't more than a minute before he rushed back into the kitchen, holding the wet kettle with the ends of the blanket. “Grab a cup, would you?”

Arthur grabbed one for him and one for Nobody, and Nobody poured in the boiling water, setting the dripping kettle in the sink when he was done. He rummaged around in the cabinets and produced two tea strainers, then set about preparing the rose tea. 

Arthur took a moment to drink in what he felt was almost a calm before the storm, in a sense- the chatter of the radio, the clink of the teacups, Nobody’s warm presence draped in an ugly plaid blanket- it all seemed so domestic to him, and the bit of him that wanted Joy whispered,  _ We could stay here forever, you know. The four of us. We could be happy here.  _ And for a second he agreed, ready to set down everything else, but then Percy’s face flashed through his mind.

“What's wrong?”

“I’m just thinking of my brother.”

“Here.” Nobody slid a cup of piping hot tea across the table to him. “What do you remember about your brother?”

“Not much. Sort of- well, he was quiet. Always relied on me to do the talking for us. He loved plants. He was tall, and all the girls adored him from primary school onwards, because he was such a shy, tender thing.”

“I don't remember much about my family, but I remember my mum. She was gorgeous, and she worked hard to give us all she could. She loved us kids, told us every night before she went off to her teaching job. She taught night classes, I think, but I don't know what subject.”

“She was a smart woman, I bet.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I always thought she knew everything.” Nobody smiled into his cup, but it was bittersweet, his eyes looking deep into it, as if searching for meaning in the shifting reflection.

“So. We’ll be leaving tomorrow, you said?”

Nobody nodded. “We should stop by the bunker, though, and grab whatever supplies we need.”

“Water especially. They drug it up there, which might be okay for me, but you’ll have a time of it if it gives you hallucinations and all that.”

“Let's draw up a list. You can tell me what the dangers are, and we can puzzle out what we need.”


	6. Chapter 6

In the morning, bright and early, they bid goodbye to Mariana and Lucy, and Arthur was a little surprised to get a full-on hug from the woman he had only known for two days.

“Alright, now, boys. I’ve made enough for two doses- one to get you across and another to get you back home again.” She took Nobody's hands in hers. “And you, sweetheart, be careful. It's more dangerous than it seems over there.” She glanced worriedly at Arthur, which he pretended not to notice, although something in him felt a bit hurt by the gesture.

“We’ll be fine, Mari. Back again before you know it.” Nobody smiled and hugged her, then went to peck Lucy on the cheek. Arthur set about unlocking all the locks, and they were on their way.

It wasn't much trouble going back to the Underground station, and they spent another hour gathering what they would need for the trip. When Arthur's pockets were overflowing with gilead and rowan, they headed towards the Salamanca bridge.

“You never told me why you wanted to get into Hamlyn, you know.”

“Do I have to tell you my motivations for everything, all the time?”

“Well, we are friends, yeah?” Arthur offered, but Nobody just frowned.

“Then be a friend and let me keep my reasons to myself. I mean, we’re probably going to be splitting up after we get over the bridge. You need to get back into Apple Holm, and I don’t.” Nobody sighed and looked down at his feet. “I know it’s been a lovely couple of days, but I think maybe it’s best to give the friend thing a rest. You don't want to get attached and start missing me, having second thoughts about leaving.”

Arthur opened his mouth, then closed it. Nobody was markedly different, colder, and Arthur wasn't sure what had happened between the morning and now. It was possible that things were just becoming more real, he mused as they reached the steel fence.

Nobody plugged in the power cell, and the rickety machinery hummed to life. Arthur reached into his pocket and produced the bottle of Joy, picking out a vanilla and offering it to him.

“Vanilla's probably the most agreeable, I’d say. Less of a kick.”

“Can you- do you think you could go through first?” There was fear in Nobody’s eyes, and Arthur nodded.

As the pill dissolved on his tongue, he let  out a long sigh, a soft smile spreading across his face. All of the many aches, pains, bruises that he’d accumulated faded away down into nothing, the same way the Joy had in his saliva.

With no hesitation, he punched the button to open the cagelike sensor, beaming as the machine blinked green and deemed him passable. He motioned for Nobody to  follow, nodding reassuringly.

“It’s fine, you’ll do great.”

Nobody took a deep breath, sliding the little white pill into his mouth and hastily pressing the button. He seemed visibly shaken, grasping the metal bars of the gate while the sensor looked him over. It turned green, of course, like Arthur had known it would.

“Can you- just- please get the antidote out of my bag, I can't, I’m shaking-”

“Why, of course!” Arthur cheerily fished the box Mari had given them out, a little velvet-lined wooden thing that had perhaps at one point nested a glistening necklace, or any number of golden treasures. Inside, however, lie the syringes, gleaming in the beautiful autumn light. Arthur took one out, then hesitated, unsure of the safest place to inject it.

“Fucking do it, Arthur! Shit, there’s- just-” Nobody grabbed for the syringe, sending it spiraling onto the cobblestones of the bridge. The glass shattered, and Nobody let out a stream of curses, clutching at his head.

“Listen, we- you can't act like this here, alright? People are already starting to stare, that bobby over there doesn't seem to be-”

“None of that fucking matters. None of it. Arthur, listen to me, listen. We did something horrible. We did something really, really bad and that's why we’re here now, we’re paying the price for that. Arthur, you have to listen.”

“No, no no no. Please don’t tell me, not here. That copper’s getting suspicious, he’s about ready to come over and arrest us, so you have to be quiet now, alright? Come over to the side here, with me.” He took Nobody's hand in his and pulled him over to the edge of the bridge. The bobby marched toward them, menacing with his crisp blue uniform and spotless white mask.

Arthur pushed Nobody over, then jumped himself, landing with a  _ thump _ on the soft green grass below. He took the hastiest of moments to ensure the other syringe was still intact inside the box, then pulled Nobody towards the rows of buildings.

“Oi! You!” a voice cried from behind them, but Arthur didn’t waste time looking back. He only cradled the box to his chest and pulled Nobody along, ducking into a narrow gap between the brick apartments.

“I think we might be safe.”

“Nobody is safe, Arthur. I told you, you have to listen. About the children, about the Germans-”

“Wait- don't say another word. Please, please don’t tell me.”

Nobody told him. Arthur dug in his pocket for another Joy, letting the memory dissolve.

There was a long silence, and the sun shifted below the rooftops, leaving the courtyard cool and shady.

“You're not one of us, are you?”

“Huh?”

“You talk a big talk about how you- you hate Joy, and you need to leave, but you just did that. Took Joy. Forgot about it all again.”

“I just can't. I can't help you if we're both…”

“Downers.”

“No. Yes. That's not what I mean, I just mean that… we can't be thinking about the past. Not now. Not until we’re safely away from this place. I mean, you were saying the same thing up until now.”

“I didn't realize how bad it was. I didn't- she was only a child, Arthur, and I-” His words degraded into unintelligible sobbing, and Arthur could do nothing but put a hand on his shoulder. 

They stayed like that for a long while, until the sky was dark and most of the Joy had gone out of their systems.

Shoulder to shoulder, backs against the wall of what had been someone’s flat, the stars invisible for the thick clouds, they sat.

“You probably should have given me the antidote.”

“Eh. We got by fine.”

“You did.” There was a coldness there that Arthur recognized.

“Don't blame me for that! It wouldn't be do to have both of us be hysterical.”

“I know that! I know that, logically. But I can't un-know what I know now. My brain might have blocked it out the first go-round, but I can’t put it back. I have to live with it.”

“I will, too. Once all of this is done, and we’ve left this place for good.”

“Yeah, well, I didn't get that luxury.” Nobody sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, bringing his knees to his chest. He looked like he wanted to fold in on himself, make himself disappear.

Arthur’s head pounded, reminding him that he hadn't had his Joy and hadn't the grass been softer before? Had his back started aching again? And he itched to take just one more, just one, but he had already earned a lot of distrust, and he wanted to prolong the time before he and Nobody went their separate ways. And he truthfully wanted for them not to- it had been ages since he’d had anyone to talk to, anyone who could even have a glimmer of understanding what he had been through, and he wasn't keen on losing that.

“You know, we probably ought to steal you some proper clothes.”

“Fine.”

“It’s just that- you know, it would help us blend in better. And it’d probably be more comfortable for you.”

“Yeah, fine.”

Seeing as he wasn’t going to get more than a few syllables out of his companion, Arthur figured he had best fight his withdrawal and go looking for a house to break into.

Fortune rewarded him not long after he had started his walk down the courtyard with an open window. He glanced back at Nobody, who was still sat in the grass watching him with a degree of disinterest. Shaking his head, he climbed through the window as quietly as he could, lowering himself to the ground.

There was a bathroom on the ground floor, so he opted to search there, carefully sliding the door open. It creaked softly, but there were no stirrings from upstairs, so Arthur turned on the light.

There was a hamper full of slightly damp clothes, some of which Arthur guessed might fit Nobody, if a little loose. He shoved a bundle into his suit jacket, then ransacked the medicine cabinet, eager to get back out as soon as was possible. On the way out, he spied a can of Victory Meat on the counter, no doubt left waiting to be put away by a forgetful housemate. He grabbed it and clambered back out the window.

“Alright, here’s a few things that could fit you. And I’ve got us some dinner, too.”

“I’m not eating V-meat, Arthur. Actually, I might just never eat anything ever again.”

“Why? What’s the V stand for, vile?”

“I know you’re trying to lighten the mood, mate, but I’m serious. Throw it out.”

Arthur grimaced but complied, setting it on the ground and handing over the pile of clothing he'd tucked away.

“This is a women’s blouse.”

“Nobody is gonna notice. Everyone is so dulled by the Joy that they won’t care about minor things like that.” Arthur nudged Nobody gently, trying to provoke a smile. “Besides, it goes nicely with the jacket, yeah?”

Nobody only sighed, stripping off the torn suit that had been draped over his slim frame and hurriedly buttoning the newer shirt in its place.

“You could turn around or something.”

“Er. Sorry.” Arthur averted his gaze, digging through his supplies and taking a mental inventory to avoid the embarrassment he felt. Nobody was skinny, the type of skinny you only got after prolonged bouts of starvation. Arthur felt guilty, thinking of the good years he had had on the Parade, and then something else, another feeling that was somewhat like terror and somewhat like shame.

“Alright. We should get a move on.”

“Are you coming with me, then? Or am I coming with you to do your thing? I mean, I’d be fine with that, heaven knows it’s easier to get things done with two of us…”

“Arthur, thank you. Really. Even with the past few awful hours, you’ve done a lot to look after me. But I think we should probably find some type of shelter to come back to around nighttime, and split off from there.”

“But we will see each other again?”

“I don't know. It’s possible, until you and I find ways to finish our business.” Nobody stretched, the over-large suit jacket barely lifting. “What I have to do here, though… it’s personal. Very personal. Something I don't want anyone's help doing.”

“How are you going to get back across Salamanca?”

“Well, if you’re still here, you can help me. If you aren’t, I suppose I’ll probably inject myself. Not that it’s out of the question to go without now that I’ve experienced the worst possible psychological effect, I guess.”

“I wouldn't say that’s a safe bet. You could end up hallucinating, and if it’s not your flavor or it’s a bad batch, then…”

“So stick around, if you really must.”

Nobody began walking towards the main road. Arthur checked his watch. A quarter to seven. Curfew was almost over by now, and the lights were coming on upstairs in every house, like clockwork.

A few minutes later, and the first Wellies opened their doors, eager to get a start on the day. Generally, Arthur remembered, the bobbies minded less if you were up early than out late. 

He broke into a jog to catch up to Nobody, pulling a mask out of his shoulder bag.

“Here, don't forget this.”

“Ugh,” Nobody complained, but strapped it on regardless.

“So, I think in terms of temporary shelter, we ought to find a house that’s a bit farther apart from all the others. In a few hours, everyone will be out and about, and the place’ll be empty.”

“And we’ll hole up and surprise them when they get back, so it’ll be easier to subdue them. Alright, sounds smart.” Arthur beamed behind his similarly cheery mask, happy to have some illusion of camaraderie back.

They walked up and down the cobbled paths, in between the rows of flats or boarded-up shop fronts, past the occasional park. Arthur looked fruitlessly for some sign of familiarity, not having realized how  _ long _ it had been since he had been back in Hamlyn, or how complicated the streets were. He supposed a chunk of it was probably the amount of Joy he’d ingested, wiping away all of his neural pathways, that sort of thing. Nobody, however, strode forward with the pace of a man on a mission, and every so often Arthur needed to jog to catch back up to him.

“How about that one?”

“Yeah, I don't see why not.” They paused in front of an old brick house, flowerpots in the windows and a welcome mat on the stoop. It was a good distance apart from its rowhouse neighbors, at the end of the block where the pavement turned into grass. It was one of those that had miraculously survived the bombings on the west side of the island with minimal renovations needed, and Arthur felt a pang of something looking at the old building.

“I’ll go around back,” Arthur volunteered. “You keep watch over here. Just remember, be cheerful. Nobody likes a Downer, right?”

“Nobody  _ is _ a downer,” Nobody snorted almost to himself, and took up a post on a nearby bench.

Arthur crept around the side. The windows were firmly locked all around to the back, so he tried the door cautiously. It swung open, and Arthur found himself in the kitchen. He began to crawl around to peer into the living room, when a pair of legs walked directly into him.

“Oh! Um, hello?”

“H… Hello,” Arthur stammered out. The legs belonged to a tall woman in a yellow and white dress, whose auburn hair was slung over one shoulder in a bushy mess.

“Are you… the new tenant? They said they were assigning me one soon, so I suppose that must be you. What are you doing down there?”

“I, er- dropped my glasses,” Arthur offered, and scrambled to his feet.

“Poor thing, no wonder they're all cracked. I’m Belinda, Belinda St. Claire.”

“Arthur Hastings.” Arthur shook the hand that was offered, a little stunned that he hadn’t been tossed out or attacked yet. “So, erm, it’s a very nice place you’ve got. I’m very glad that you’ve decided to rent it out.”

“Well, it isn't mine, per se. The government owns it, puts us in here as housing is needed. Most of the original owners are moved to the Garden District now. You know, decided to move to a simpler country life and all that.” Arthur noticed Belinda was definitely a bit oblivious, to say the least. “I’m ever so glad to have company, though. It’s dreadfully lonely. It seems like the amount of people left in the village is dwindling every day, so you end up with houses like these only having one or two residents.”

“It’s a shame,” Arthur nodded. “Houses like these ought to be bustling with life. It's what they were built for, it’s sad in a way to have them all empty, purpose forgotten.”

“That’s very poetic, Arthur. Do you fancy poetry?”

“A bit. I’m not much for writing, but I always liked reading a bit of Shakespeare in my youth.”

“He’s a bit dark, though, isn’t he? You know, I have this lovely book of poems upstairs. 'Sunshine for the Modern Era,’ it’s an anthology type book. It has this foreward by Uncle Jack, so inspiring- here, let’s give you the tour and I’ll get it for you. Feeding two birds with one seed, as they say.” Arthur remembered the idiom quite differently, but began to follow her until Nobody suddenly peeked through the entryway.

“What’s going on here?”

“Oh! Erm, Belinda, this is the other new tenant, ah-”

“It’s… Ethan.”

“Ethan. Ethan, this is Belinda, our new housemate.”

“Charmed,” Nobody said flatly, but stepped inside to give her a handshake.

“Isn't this lovely! Ethan, do you enjoy poetry?”

“I’ve been known to.” Even behind a layer of plastic, Arthur could sense the quizzical look on his face.

“I’m as dumbfounded as you are,” Arthur murmured as their hostess led the way up the stairs.

“This is a very, very bad idea. I hope you know that.”

“I’m aware,” he whispered back as they rounded the doorway into one of the bedrooms.

“Alright. This is one of the spare rooms, but I think Nadine had the book in here somewhere. Always borrowing things, she was.”

“Well, we’re very punctual about returning things. Right, Ethan?”

“Right.” Nobody’s tone was that of someone who wanted to return Arthur to his maker. Despite that, Arthur found himself stifling a laugh. It was all of a sudden very funny, this situation they were in, Nobody’s frustration. Arthur felt very much as though he were trapped in the Comedy of Errors, and he was about to discover a secret twin of his had been behind the entire series of events that had brought him here, listening to the woman whose house he had broken into read him some very bad poetry.

He thought of Percy, then, and was jarred back into reality.

“Listen, Belinda, I’m feeling a bit knackered. Would it be alright if we got to know each other better tonight, over dinner?”

“Of course! I didn't mean to keep you two from your moving in. I do get a bit sidetracked at times, if you’ll forgive me.” Belinda set the book on the nightstand, giving a little nod. “I’ll let you get to it.”

The door closed softly, and Nobody let out a great sigh.

“We’ve really done it now. Why didn't you just off her?”

“What?”

“Kill her? Get her out of the way instead of whatever the hell this is?”

“We can’t just do that! She really isn’t harming anyone, and she seems to want us to stay.”

“We’ve both done worse for less, Arthur, face it.”

“Right, but that was…”

“Garden District folks. Right. So it matters less.”

“Well, no. Yes. I don't know what you want me to say. Things are different here, Nobody, we don’t have to fight tooth and nail for the simplest things anymore. Every house has running water, you can buy food that hasn’t turned. It’s different.”

“Maybe, but this isn't a good situation you’ve put us in. What if she figures us out? In fact, she could be calling the police on us right this minute, and we would be beaten to death without so much as a trial.”

“She won’t do that. I promise, she doesn't suspect a thing. She’s a sweet girl, and-”

“Oh, she’s sweet. That changes it all! Because I wasn’t sweet, before all this, because me and m-”

“Stop! Stop it! Listen, if we have a screaming match up here, she may well call the police.” Arthur put his hands gently on Nobody’s shoulders, a little hurt when they tensed up. “I’m sorry. And I’m sorry that you're having to deal with all of this, this anger and sadness while we’re here and you can't express it properly. And I’m sorry I dropped the syringe and made you go through all of this. I really do feel terrible, and I want to make it up to you.”

“Arthur, you-” Nobody’s shoulders relaxed, and his posture drooped to its normal slouch. “You don’t have to be sorry. I’m very… frustrated with you, for a lot of reasons. But I know you're trying, even if it can be misguided sometimes.”

“How about this? We stay here until we can find something better, and take the time to relax as best we can, and get you into a better state mentally. Then you can do your business, and I’ll be here to help you back across the bridge, and we’ll figure it all out. But just for these next couple days, we just adjust and get used to it all, and enjoy having some luxuries.”

“Alright. That sounds fair. I’ll try not to snap at you as much.”

“And I’ll try not to be insensitive like I have been.”

“Deal.” Nobody pulled Arthur into a hug a little unexpectedly, although it wasn't unwelcome. It was nice, being able to touch another human being outside the context of fighting each other over neximide pills.

“So is Ethan your actual name, then?”

“I won't confirm or deny that. If you want to call me Ethan all the time, you can, I don’t really care much.”

“But Mariana knows your name, yeah?”

“I won't confirm or deny that, either.”

“So she does, huh?”

“Look, it’s just for safety. The less people know about me, the better.”

“I’m teasing. I thought you said you’d forgotten it, anyways. All that rubbish about being a nobody and all-”

“Alright, alright. So maybe I like a certain air of mystery.” Nobody’s mask moved slightly, and Arthur realized it was because underneath he was probably fighting a grin.

“So, Mister Ethan Peters. Would you prefer the west bedroom or the east?”

“This one is fine, thanks.” Nobody leaned over, inspecting the door. “Actually, do these lock properly? I might spend the night in the bathtub.”

“That one might blow our cover.” Arthur gestured towards the hall. “You could always do the old chair-under-the-doorknob trick. It more or less works.”

“As long as it gives me time to get out this window if the bobbies come calling.” Nobody opened the door, nodding at Arthur. “Let's get some rest. We’ve been up all night, and then some.”

“Yeah.” Arthur hesitated. “Would it be- would you mind if I, er, hugged you? Before I go off to the other room?”

“I told you not to get so attached. I might die, you know. Horrible things happen.” Arthur turned, disappointed, but Nobody said in a soft voice, “That wasn’t a no.”

Again, it felt good to touch someone, and Arthur suspected Nobody felt the comfort too. He was warm, despite their being in the open all night, and he didn't smell half as bad as Arthur expected someone from the Garden District to. A patch of bushy, bristly hair rubbed against Arthur’s cheek as they separated, leaving his skin tingling a bit.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah.” Nobody adjusted his mask, seeming a little awkward. “Well, goodnight.”

“Goodnight. Er, morning. I’ll see you in a few.” Arthur pulled himself from the doorway and into his room, collapsing on the bed. From the window came the familiar bustle of Wellington below, and he could hear what he vaguely recognized as Belinda’s voice singing a jaunty tune downstairs.

After only a few minutes, he fell asleep, not even bothering to draw the curtains. Outside, the rhythm of people coming and going continued, ebbing and flowing as the hours passed.


End file.
